Safe In The Dark
by GoodForBad
Summary: "No, Loki." And with those words, he gave up. He gave in. And he let go. Loki falls into the void and is not seen again until his reappearance on Midgard. But what happened in the intervening time? What took place to transform him from the brother he had been to the monster he became?
1. Into Darkness

**A/N: Aight, SO. This is my first attempt at writing a story for this fandom, and I'm pretty darned excited about it. I just wanted to note a few things, the first being that this particular universe is coming completely from my own imagination. I am not an expert in Marvel canon, nor do I want to be. I wanted to have fun with this. **

**Secondly, I wanted to warn anyone who might be the squeamish type that this is a DARK story. Torture, gore, the works. If this doesn't sound like your thing then move along, move along...**

**Thirdly, I'd like to dedicate this story to my unofficial beta and fanfiction BFF WhoAtHeart - thank you for your input and your friendship! Thanks to you, this story is getting published! **

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to the Marvel Universe/rightful owners. I own NOTHING and make no profit from this story. It's just for fun.**

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It was a sensation he had never felt before.

Too often in his life he had felt this emptiness and hollow ache in his chest - when his beloved brother would gain the glory for yet another feat of strength while he sat idly by with a book in his hands, twisting fire in his fingers in the dark. Or when his father would give him that _look_ that, looking back, had spoken volumes about which son would receive the crown. Or as he had watched the crowds, nearly bursting with excitement, as Thor strolled down the aisle with his arrogant smile and glorious helmet, ready to accept and gloat over another accomplishment that had been handed to him without effort.

But this...this was like entering another dimension. And maybe he was. All of his senses seemed mixed up - sight clashed with sound, the cold with the brilliant flashes of light before him. Had he not felt like he had fallen into an abyss of death and dark, he might've taken the time to awe at the splendor of the galaxies hurtling past him. He couldn't even let himself cry - despite the involuntary tears, they were instantly whisked away by violent, cold blasts of air.

At the moment, though, the only thing he could focus on was the pain: the shrieking of stars, the pull of all the air from his lungs and a million thoughts flying through his mind faster than he was falling. He closed his eyes - waiting, just waiting for that moment when he'd finally _cease_ and rid the universe of his useless existence. He was suddenly, and inexplicably, twisted in two different directions, but his screams disappeared in the vacuum of space. Then he was spinning - quickly, out of control, flying at the speeds of light, sucked into...what, exactly? He couldn't tell. He didn't really care anymore.

At least, he didn't until his body collided violently with hard, grey rock and he bounced off of it like a child's toy carelessly thrown in a tantrum. He literally bounced once, twice, until skidding to a stop against a slab of protruding stone. He sputtered once, reaching for the heavens, until he realized he could breathe again. He let his arms drop to his sides and tried to steady his breaths, even as he took in large gulps of air. From where he lay, the sky flashed amazing colors of all sorts, the likes of which even he had never seen. Wheezing once, he attempted to sit up, only to come crashing back with a painful cry. So. He had been injured. Conjuring up a spell he had learned as a boy, he closed his eyes and directed his powers to his lower spine, where the pain was the most intense. It felt as if a warm blanket was draped over the area and he concentrated hard, sighing quietly as the spell began to work. He flexed and released his fingers still by his sides and waited a few moments before trying to sit up again. This time, however, he was able to make it to a seated position and take in his surroundings.

The planet, or rock or moon or wherever he had landed was as colorless and charmless as an Asgardian prison cell. It was barren, littered with grey rocks in varying shapes and sizes. Empty. Cold. Reminiscent of Jotenheim. The thought chilled him. He stood slowly, carefully, still cringing at the protests of his body. The soothing spell had worked, but he had obviously been very hurt, and it had worked just enough to help him move about without collapsing. But he was a trickster, not a healer. Regardless, he couldn't think of that now. "Of all the fates that awaited me," he murmured, "this is the one that befalls me." He took a step forward, then another, his footfalls virtually silent on the eerie planet. It was not often that he felt fear - in fact, almost never. But this place was strangely _quiet. _He linked it with death in his mind and a thin smile formed on his lips. Death was what he sought, was it not?

He gasped slightly when his foot slipped on a rock and he nearly stumbled. A flash of a memory danced before his eyes and he saw his brother's face above him once again, yelling out his name in that fateful moment when he let go. _No. _Loki stiffened and set his eyes ahead. _Not _his brother. Merely the deception of one - a whisper in the dark. He forced it from his mind.

He had not gone far before silent voices sounded in the expanse. He stopped moving and listened, but only quiet met his ears. He took another step forward and it began again - close and frustratingly indecipherable. It was as if he walked in a dream that mingled with someone else's, and it was irritating. Someone, somewhere was trying to tell him something and he couldn't understand. He focused, concentrated, and waited for the understanding to dawn, but it never came. The harder he tried, the less sense it made, and he started to feel as if he was going mad.

_And maybe you are._

The voice was so clear, so audible, his heart leaped in his chest. He had heard it inside of his head, but did a double take of his surroundings, in an effort to assuage his scattered mind. He swallowed thickly and had the distinct impression he was not alone.

_You are not. _

Something deep within him reacted, a force he could not control. As if he were a puppet, and an unseen hand the master, he whipped a dagger from its hiding place and threw it blindly to the side. He nearly choked when it met a target and the dull _thud_ seemed to reverberate in the empty air. He spun quickly and watched a wretched creature fall dying to the ground before him. It was a hideous thing, tall, gangly, seemingly bearing no skin. He watched in fascination as it made the final fall, and the clatter of its armor echoed in his ears. He approached it slowly, noting that his dagger had made direct contact with the thing's face - the only area not protected by the armor. The sheer magnitude of the coincidence chilled him and he flexed his fingers, staring at them as if they possessed a power not his own. His breath came out in sporadic, anxious puffs and without a second thought, he nudged the creature over with his foot and pulled his weapon from its face. With a wave of his hand, it disappeared into its hiding place again.

A strange fear was beginning to grow inside of him, one that he could not comprehend. His senses were telling him there was nothing to fear, that he could vanquish any enemy, but somehow he felt he should focus instead on his mind. Some _thing_ was reaching inside and finding his secrets, exposing them, using them. He twisted one way, then another, but his heart was beating oddly fast and his vision was starting to blur. "What is happening?" he whispered and he knew that someone heard him.

He started to run.

He knew not where to go, or what he was running from. _From death? _The very thing he desired. Nonsense. He slowed his pace without warning and turned slowly. A brilliant flash of blue light filled the sky, revealing a tall, hooded figure. For but a moment, its eyes glowed red with warning before disappearing with the light. In the next breath, the thing was before him, hand on his throat, holding him to the sky.

"You dare take the life of one of mine?" it rasped, the voice like metal clanging on metal. Its grip tightened. The eyes were gone, nothing more than a blank space. He wondered if he had imagined them. "You are weak, outsider. The stench of defeat is heavy on you."

"Kill me if you must," he whispered, his voice a stroke in the wind. "I do not fear you, vial creature." A low growl emanated from the thing's throat and suddenly he was thrown, flying through the air with a force that, when he landed, knocked the air from his lungs and left him staring into the dark. As if he moved with the wind, the thing appeared above him again, its mouth crimson, as if stained with blood.

"What are you?" it whispered slowly and suddenly he found himself laughing, cringing at the pain it brought, ripping through his ribs and back and head.

"I am Loki," he said, black dots flashing in his vision. "King of Asgard." Another flash of blue lit the sky. He laughed even harder.

Then blackness.


	2. A Force Unseen

**A/N: Look at that! Another update. If anyone out there is reading this, I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Duh.**

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He awoke with a start, feeling as if something had jolted him from behind with the tip of a spear. He gasped slightly and tried to move, only to discover that he could not do so. He was propped against a slab of stone, nearly standing, not able to move about. He tugged gently on a restraint wrapped around his wrist, then more violently, until his body shook with the exertion. He felt foggy, lightheaded. Whatever was restraining him was wrapped tightly around his wrists, neck and feet. Doing a quick examination, he also found that he had been stripped of the majority of his clothing - shirtless, shoeless, but they had the decency to leave his bottom half covered. He groaned slightly, looking about with wide eyes. The scenery had not changed at all. There was not a soul in sight.

He closed his eyes then, silently mouthing the words to a spell of fire and power. He chanted them with fluidity, the words rolling from his tongue in a quiet whisper. At the end his eyes shot open and he directed the magic to his bonds, eyes blazing green fire.

Nothing happened.

He squinted, doubted himself for a moment, and tried the spell again. Still nothing. Worry began to creep its way into his mind and let out a low growl. This felt eerily familiar, and he flashed back to a time when, as punishment, Odin had taken away his powers for nearly destroying the palace's library when his fire spell went awry. It had been an accident, naturally - the library was like a sanctuary to him, a home within a home, and had it not been for Thor's incessant taunting, the incident never would have occurred. But the blame had fallen to him. Of _course_ it had. And though the punishment lasted for a mere number of days, it felt like an eternity. His magic was very much a part of him, and without it, he felt powerless. Naked. Useless.

_So, _thought he. _They have taken away my magic._ The thought made his forehead break out into a sweat and he swallowed hard. There were various spells that worked against his art - some left the possibility open for limited magic, others none at all. He had no clue as to which one they had inflicted upon him. The ability to do such a thing suggested that these were intelligent beings, and perhaps capable of magic themselves. For but a fleeting moment, he had assumed they were much like the frost giants - large, burly, good for dying and not much else.

_Just like you._

The thought burned in his mind and he grimaced in spite of himself. The air smelled of decay and brought with it something new - a looming figure, coming ever closer. Inexplicable terror seized his heart and he struggled uselessly against his bonds. Just as before, it appeared before him in the blink of an eye, the tip of a dagger pointed at his heart.

"Loki," it said, uttering his name like a profanity. "An Asgardian. What brings you to our realm?"

"Kill me, _thing,_" Loki spat, a sudden boldness gripping his heart, "lest you doubt your own superiority."

"Silence!" it screeched and its frozen hand wrapped itself around his neck once more. "Had I the choice, you would be nothing more than a chilled corpse in the dirt by now." It leaned in close and snarled, "But I answer to a higher being. Now answer me: _why are you here._"

"By chance," he said with a smirk, despite the grip on his throat. "I would not willingly travel to a realm of such waste."

"Watch your words," the thing said, deceptively gentle. "Do not think yourself above brokenness."

"I am already broken," Loki snarled and, reaching into the power he knew was still within, he pushed through the magic restraints. "_Myrkr, myrkr, kveykva ykkarr seyðir!" _he chanted in a vicious whisper, and sparks of energy were pulled from the air and he could feel the power building, oh yes, building, and when it reached its peak, he sent a line of green fire against the thing. It shot backwards to the ground and with a low growl, dissipated the flames that licked its cloak with a simple wave of its hands. It rose, almost without movement, and Loki let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

What _was_ this thing?

"Fool," it spat. "You have done far more harm to yourself than I." Loki attempted a sneer, but it faded quickly as a dull ache rippled in his abdomen and began to spread outwards. His eyes widened in shock and he stared at his outstretched arms as small, vein-like slivers appeared that glowed with blue warmth.

And it burned.

It burned from the inside out, as if something had been set afire in his gut and was spreading to every inch of his body with every beat of his heart. It went slowly though, drawn out like the points of a knife, to the tips of his fingers, his toes, his scalp. Inexplicably, his heart began to hammer in his chest, faster and faster, until he thought it would burst. Fear gripped him once more and he began to writhe, desperately trying to escape the bonds he knew he could not. Back arched, limbs stretched to their limit, he let out a scream.

It was nothing, compared to the shrieks that followed when audible _pops_ filled the empty air.

He felt it in his shoulders first, then his knees. Ripping apart, one by one. As tense as he'd been before, his body suddenly fell limp as his elbows snapped in opposite directions. He screamed at the pain, the sheer _agony, _as it was something internal, hidden, _unexplained. _His own body weight was working against him, pulling on his limbs, making it all the worse with every passing second. His screams soon gave way to small gasps and whimpers, even as the _thing_ stood before him once again, grabbing his chin with its freezing hand.

"Your insolence works against you, Asgardian," it hissed, breath reeking of decay. "The magic was strong in you. Threats must be snuffed. Through anguish we change. Through pain we learn."

"Learn..." Loki's head lurched and he managed a crude smile in the thing's direction. "...what?"

"Power," it whispered and a shiver ran down his spine.

"You have...no power," he choked out and the thing lifted him up by the throat, the chains snapping to attention at the sudden shift.

"You know not of what you speak," it said, shoving him back against the slab of stone behind him.

_But you will._

Loki huffed out a small breath as the voice crept back into his mind. He grunted when the pain intensified, then dulled as the voice whispered promises in his ear. He tried to listen, to hold on to that momentary relief, but it drifted away and the pain came screaming back with a severity he had never known before. His body shuddered with exhaustion and fear. _Come back,_ he thought. _Help me._ But the voice did not return, and he could swear he heard a laugh in the distance. Mocking him. Mocking his pain. Loki's eyes darkened.

"Why do you let me live, _thing,_" he gargled, voice shaking, staring hard at the figure before him through tear-filled eyes. Throbbing pain surged through his entire body, but he fought to ignore it, the way his limbs twisted and sagged in unnatural angles.

"He will make use of you," it whispered and in a brilliant flash of light, disappeared in the air. A low growl started in his throat and grew into a frustrated scream at the emptiness before him, at his unanswered question. His chest heaved with the effort and he fought to breathe as his cry barely filled the void. He screamed until his throat was raw and his lungs burned, until it died out into the quiet that engulfed him. Head dropping, he whispered silent things to himself, cursing his plight and his inability to change it.

From above, snow began to fall.

**Love it? Hate it? Leave a review and let me know - I'd be oh so grateful. :]**


	3. The Night Approaches

**A/N: Holy cow! Me again! Here with yet another update. I warn ye, readers, if thou is faint of heart, take much precaution with this chapter. It's kind of visual towards the end. Not by my standards, of course, but I thought I'd give a warning if you don't like blood. Hehehe. **

**Also, a nice little shout-out to ChocolateChameleon who is leaving reviews. Thank you so much! You rock!**

**Disclaimer: Seriously? Is this necessary? I don't own these characters. **

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Days. Perhaps weeks. He had lost track of how long he had been falling through space, and now, how long he had been stranded on this forsaken planet. The thing had not returned since its last visit, and Loki remained chained to his slab of rock. Some evil spell had been placed upon him that, while it did not get rid of his magic, rendered it useless by working _against_ his own body when he tried to use it to escape. He had made one more attempt at snapping the chains that bound him, and it had resulted in his hair catching on fire. Completely vulnerable, he had been able to do nothing but suffer alone as the flames had eaten away his hair and burned into his flesh.

Now he lie alone, mouthing silently up at the star-filled sky, body deformed, and scalp spotted with searing blisters that did not want to heal. He had long since stopped his cries of agony, instead channeling the frustrations into his rage. Against the thing. Against his fate. Against his family.

_He threw you from the bridge. _

The voice came in random doses, assuaging his fears one minute and exploiting them the next...all within his own head. He began to wonder how much he was remembering correctly when it came to that last night on the Bifrost. He had been denied by his father, that was for certain. _No._ Not his father. A liar. A murderer. And Thor. The arrogant crown prince, to whom all favor had been bestowed.

_He did not try to save you._

Had Thor let him fall? Why had he let him go? No...that was not it. Why had he pushed him from the edge, into the abyss? Was that right?

_Yes. He pushed you._

Thinking was becoming extremely difficult. Somehow, he knew, there was a presence in his mind that longed to take over, that was fighting for him. But something deep within was not letting the walls down, would not let the intruder pass into the sanctuaries of his mind. He felt protected somehow by_ himself_. Though his body was battered and his magic worthless, he still had his mind intact - his precious sanity. They would not take it from him. They could not.

Stars flew by in streaks of blinding light. He had once thought the sight beautiful, but it now sickened him, haunted him. He blinked at the sky, willing his body to give up and die, but it would not. Yet at the same time, it seemed an injustice of sorts for him to just give up and give in to death - why should he? Why should _he_ be the one to succumb, when he was by far the least deserving of it?

Yet there was no way out, at least not now. He swallowed thickly and waited, waited for whatever was to come.

He did not have to wait long. Movements on this planet seemed eerily quiet, almost unnaturally so. One moment you would be sure you were alone, then the next, footsteps would sound upon the ground. But they always faded, making Loki wonder if he had imagined them entirely. It didn't seem unlikely. The quiet was suffocating, ironically deafening. The mind could play tricks.

But this time he was certain it was not.

The footsteps were slow and steady, sounding deliberately so. Loki's body tensed, awaiting the appearance of...whatever it was. It did not move about as the _thing _did, with silence and the element of surprise. This being wanted to make it known that he was coming, that he had a purpose in mind. The thought in itself made his stomach churn and he made lame attempts at turning his head in the direction of the footsteps. The burned flesh of his head seemed to crunch as he moved and he winced from the pain. A fleeting thought made him wonder what he looked like in this moment. _Like a monster,_ the voice returned and his heart fell in his chest, despite his own assurances that he did not care, did not care, did not care.

He saw the eyes first, much like his first moments here. But these eyes were different, almost...not alive. They burned with an orange fire, but there was no life in them at all. They were cold, intense, and intelligent. When the eyes were cast his way, he squirmed, feeling as if they not only saw into his soul, but the had the power to change it if need be. Despite the feelings, Loki forced himself to look straight back and took in the appearance of the being before him. He looked as if the flesh had been torn from his face, as his features displayed an unnatural, meaty color. He was tall, towering above his prone form, strong, and clad in armor of gold and silver. In that moment, Loki froze, recognition dawning like light into the darkness.

"Thanos," he whispered, The Eternal cocked his head and smiled, sending ripples of dread down Loki's spine. He stood with his hands behind his back, elbows jutting to the side in a display of unquestioning authority.

"So you remember, son of Odin," he nearly whispered, but the power of his voice reverberated where Loki's had not. He took another step forward with a smirk on his lips. Loki visibly jumped, and he cursed himself for it. Nothing passed the keen eye of Thanos, and his smile widened. "At ease. I come to offer my help."

"I do not need it," Loki murmured and met his gaze with a glare. Thanos responded by raising a hand and a glimmering sheet appeared between his hands. Before he could stop himself, the fallen god looked upon himself in the looking glass Thanos had made.

His skin was various shades of purple and black. Dried blood stuck frozen in their places where they had finally stopped moving down his chest in crimson streaks. Odd projections of bone stuck out against his skin on both arms and both legs, making him look like quite the odd, malformed creature. His lips were caked in his own blood, chapped and swollen. His scalp was singed, somehow still bloodied and raw like his hair had only just gone out. Gone were the healthy strands of hair he once possessed - crisp patches had taken their place. But his eyes...his own eyes he could stop looking at. They were haunted, swirling with the black magic that changed their color to a dark, freakish charcoal with little life or passion left. He wheezed and looked away. He was disgusting.

"Are you certain?" Thanos soothed, the mirror dissipating in the air with a flick of his hands. Loki met his gaze again with an intense stare, his body shaking with suppressed anger and hate.

"Away, wretch," he seethed, yanking at his chains. "I need not your invented sympathy." Thanos tilted his head again.

"You talk as if you have a choice," he murmured. Another step towards him and waves of energy shot out from his mere presence. "You do not want to fight, son of Odin. Believe me."

"I..." Loki cringed as his voice shook, but strengthened himself with new resolve. "I am _not..._son of Odin. I am Loki." His voice was rising to panicked screams. He could not control it. "I am a god. I am a prince. I am _Loki._"

"You are weak," Thanos stated, coming to stand right in front of him, voice calm. "And I can make you strong. You are broken. I can make you whole. You are a prince." He leaned in close then, whispering into his ear. "I can make you a king." Loki stiffened as the Eternal reached out a hand. It hovered over his chest. "You have a heart," he murmured. "I can fix that." He then placed his hand directly on the center of his chest and Loki gasped. Warmth flooded from his hand, coursing through his veins and touching every part that ailed him, relief pooling where he had hurt the most. He gasped as tears involuntarily appeared in his eyes and he leaned into the touch, desperate for _more more more._ In but a moment, the looking glass was back, and he could see himself - _intact._ Limbs realigned, hair regrown, the injuries long departed, he was _whole_ again. And it was wonderful.

"It comes at a price however," Thanos continued in his soothing voice. "All this and more can be yours...if you join me. If you find what was taken from me. If you right the wrong done so long ago." Something new crept in with every word he spoke, but it didn't feel like relief. The _voice, _the _presence_ that had kept him company all this time was intensified and very _real _now...creeping into his mind, whispering in ancient tongues. His mind was fighting the battle for control and was losing quickly. Loki gargled, unable to speak, basking in how terribly _good_ this felt but couldn't shake the dread that was bobbing up and down in the grogginess of his mind. "Midgard," Thanos whispered in his ear, drawing closer, "will be _yours._"

_Take it. You owe no one anything. _

_Do not. Thanos is a master of lies._

_Are you not a master of trickery as well?_

_Do not underestimate his power. _

_Your own power is within your reach._

_As it was before. And you failed._

Loki's eyes shot open and he fought for control of his mind. "At what _price,_" he suddenly snarled, and smashed his head against the creature before him. Thanos barely stumbled, but his eyes blazed with angry fire. He removed his hand and Loki gasped and slumped as the pain returned with boldness. Yet again did he hear his bones pop and crumble, his hair fall to ashes on his shoulders. But the presence that had threatened to take over his mind slowly faded, and for that he was grateful. He clamped his mouth shut and refused to cry out.

"You are a fool," Thanos spat and Loki forced himself to smile.

"And you are desperate, gigolo of _death._" Thanos exploded, letting out a deafening roar. He slammed a hand against Loki's throat and pulled him to his face.

"You think yourself a weaver of words, old trickster? Tell me, what would you be without your silver tongue, hm?" Loki struggled, aware of his defenseless position. He stared the creature in the eye. In that moment, Thanos smiled - a chilling, belligerent smile - and Loki could feel his heartbeat quicken against the monster's fingers. "I see no need to speculate." In a flash, he pulled out a glittering silver object from the air and _shoved it into his mouth. _In the next breath, he yanked his tongue from between his lips, tightening the tongs that held it in place. "How quaint," he said, voice back down to a whisper. "I notice you do not speak, _silver tongue._" And with that, he raised a dagger and brought it down in one quick motion.

Loki had no time to scream as he watched his tongue fall to the ground. Thanos quickly slapped a hand over his mouth as he writhed in horror and pain and pulled him close again. "Shhh now. Hush little one. Hush." The metallic taste of his own blood exploding in his mouth was sickening and his eyes watered. He writhed in pain, whimpering, having no choice but to swallow his own fluids, breathing through his nose in heavy pants. "Do not think this over," Thanos snarled, pulling back to stare him in the eye. He held up his blood stained hand and Loki cowered. "This is but the beginning, Odinson. I will return."

In a blink, he was gone.

Loki leaned his head down slowly and opened his mouth, staining the snow-covered ground with drops of crimson.

And then he wept.

**I won't beg for reviews, but...please? ;)**


	4. Memory Keeper

_Pain. _

It ate away at him. Tore his flesh and disintegrated his bones. His waking and sleeping hours mingled into one long, excruciating nightmare. Voices whispered, nails dragged into his mangled skin. His mouth felt empty, achy, but the flow of blood would not cease. He imagined himself a beast, ripping the hearts from his prey, devouring them even as they continued to beat. His own mind began to work against him, envisioning fantasies that stole screams from his lungs. There was no day. Only night. Always night. Dark and mysterious, wrapping its misty fingers around his heart and brain, slowly choking the life from him until there was nothing else for him to give.

Something throbbed against his temple - whatever remained of his heart. Swallowing was no longer possible. He found it hard to believe, in those times, that he had ever known anything but pain, ever hoped for anything but impending death. Sometimes he tried to cry out, in hopes something, _someone_ would hear. Even he grimaced at the noises he made like a dying animal, at the way the blood spattered out of his mouth like vomit. He could not move. Tears no longer poured. And still no one came.

Defense of the mind is a curious thing. It was like an entity within itself, almost capable of making decisions without the input of anything else. Had he the choice, Loki would have let himself die - _it's too much too much too much _- but his own mind would not let him. It forced him to stay alert, to listen to the whispers, to nod in agreement to someone who was not there. Terror was always present in the back of his mind, but he knew that if he gave in to it, all would be lost. Everything he once knew.

His precious sanity.

He was wasting away. This much he knew. He could see the bones jutting out as his pale skin melted from the surface, disappearing just like the rest of him. Where muscle had once rippled, decay now took its place. He was falling into himself, watching as he lost pieces of himself, one bit at a time.

_Is this death? _he wondered.

_Not for you._

His eyes shot open.

_Not yet._

His body shuddered as the presence made itself known once more. It had become eerily familiar, a source of comfort to him, despite the circumstance in which it reared its head. He strained his neck, stretching, to see if he could find the source. _Fool,_ he thought to himself and a smile graced his lips. _It is a part of you, now. _

The thought comforted him.

When the_ thing_ made itself known to him this time, he cast it a wry glance. The voice had alerted him moments ago that there was a new presence, that it was near, very near, and coming closer. The element of surprise was no longer their advantage. It made him giddy.

"You have changed since our last meeting, Asgardian," the thing snarled. "I did not think it possible to find you in a state more pitiful than before."

Loki gave a bloody grin.

"You hold the power to change your fate. I have come to see what you have chosen."

_I choose life, _Loki thought.

The thing tilted its head.

**_You have been given the power? _**

Loki did not start when the voice appeared in his head. Somehow, some_how_ he knew it would speak in his mind before the voice told him.

_No, _Loki responded, staring at the thing. _But you have underestimated me._

_**We waste much time this way. You will do as he says, or face the consequences. **_

_Have I not already? _From deep within, a laugh sputtered forth. It was an eerie sound, almost as if he were drowning and enjoying it. The thing took a step back.

**_You think the worst he can do is cut off your tongue? Master grows impatient with you. Serve us now and you will be healed. If you continue to resist, you will suffer immensely from this day forward. _**

Loki continued to smile. He said nothing.

**_So be it. _**

The thing strode forward, hands outstretched. It stopped directly in front of him, snarling, and Loki looked on in wonder. _Kill me,_ he thought, but he got nothing in return. A blue glow, much like the one that had appeared in his veins, suddenly sparked between the thing's palms and it reached forward, pressing its frozen fingers onto each side of his head.

And in that moment, his mind was torn inside out.

He was no longer where he had been. He was not anywhere. Words and sounds and sights were shifted into eerie patterns that pulled at his core and _stole _from him. In one breath the past played out in rapid succession - childhood, learning, playing - then in the next, the downward spiral into adulthood, events twisting without sound into the man he had become. An invisible hand was reaching inside of his mind, and he was powerless to stop it. Slowly, oh so slowly but surely, his secrets were being revealed - laid out and examined, touched. They were no longer his own. Warped. Twisted. There was more laughing. They were _mocking_ him. Then suddenly it shifted again. And then everything - _everything -_ was being replayed.

_I never wanted the throne, I only ever wanted to be your equal!_

_I could have done it father...I could have done it! For you! For all of us!_

_NO LOKI._

_Why can't he be more like Thor? Why does he spend his time wielding magic instead of a weapon? _

_He is different, Odin. He is...not like us. _

_Why have you done this?_

_To prove to father that I AM A WORTHY SON._

_I will not fight you brother!_

_I am not your brother._

_I_

_never_

_was._

_Brother_

_Please_

_When I am king_

_I'll hunt down the Frost Giants_

_And slay them all_

_NoLokienoughyou'llneverseeheragainyou'reamonsterI' mamonsterYOUTHINKYOUKNOWPAIN -_

_The Bifrost shattered and the wind ripped through him, yanking the helmet from his head. He screamed as he fell, fighting uselessly against the pull of the vortex. He tumbled in the open air, fragments of the bridge tearing through his skin until suddenly there was the staff, the beautiful, beautiful staff and he latched on without a second thought. Thor's face smiled above him, holding the other end, and he tilted his head at his brother. In that moment he knew what was going to happen and he tried to scream - "Thor, no!" but it was late, too late, and Thor let go with a wicked grin and having nothing left to grab on to, Loki fell, screaming, into the darkness, into the pit, the face of his brother and the act of betrayal burning painfully into his mind._

And with the scream of a tortured soul he was brought from the brink, back to his hell, back to this place, where his mind was no longer his own. And this thing, this _other_ that stood before him only gave a crooked smile and whispered, "So, we have been wrong about you," and he pulled his hands from his head and Loki shrieked, a warped, twisted sound that came not from his lungs, but from his very soul.

"You are not of Asgard," it said and with a mighty _whack,_ its armored hand connected with what was left of his mind and he was knocked into a senseless cold that burned from the inside out.

* * *

**Gee whiz, the mind is a scary thing to play with. In case anyone's wondering, Loki's memories have been seriously messed with by the Other. **

**Leave a review and I'll love you forever. **


	5. Breaking

He awoke with a gasp, sputtering and flailing in useless efforts to defend himself against a nonexistent foe. His chest heaving, he forced himself to calm and blinked once, twice, lying perfectly still until he was certain he was awake and his nightmares would no longer plague him. His mouth felt dry, so very very dry, and his body was aching, deep in the tissue and muscle and bone. It took a few moments for him to realize he was no longer strapped down, but was instead lying prostrate on cool ground, free of any sort of bindings. He leaned into the smooth stone's touch, absorbing the coldness of it. It felt inexplicably _wonderful_ against his bare skin.

Yet...something was wrong.

He didn't notice what it was until, with much effort, he rolled onto his back. A beam of weak moonlight stole through an outcrop of rock and landed on his arm as he tried to block it from his vision. His sensitivity to it should have been his first indication something was different, but it took a moment for recognition to set in as he stared at the flesh of the irregular limb - the shadowed blue tone that looked eerily familiar and simultaneously repulsive.

_Wait. _

His arm began to shake as he looked closely at it, as his eyes followed up the second skin to his shoulders. He then glanced down at his misshapen legs, and they bore the same tint. He raised shaking hands and placed them on his face, fingering the raised skin that felt like scars, the marks that characterized the ancestry of a Jotun.

"It seems your insolence was rightly placed all along," a voice suddenly boomed and he jumped, turning in its direction with wide eyes. Thanos wandered over with silent footsteps, so very unlike his first appearance. He eyed his captive with startling cold blue eyes and the same grim smile on his lips. "Had I known my prisoner was a _frost giant_, I could have settled this from the beginning." He knelt down in front of him, a small chuckle sounding as Loki shrank away. "Such a trickster." He reached out a hand and placed two fingers on his bare scalp, and Loki jumped and whimpered. When Thanos pulled his hand away, a burn, still smoldering, was imprinted on his left temple.

"I see you have changed since our last visit. But fear not; my offer still stands." He leaned in close and stared at him, eyes cold and remorseless. "But does your answer?" His gaze bored down on him and he tilted his head. "Surely you see reason, now. You no longer have the advantage. I have seen you, _Laufeyson._" The words seared like an insult and Loki's stomach churned. "I have seen what you have seen. I know what you know. I own you."

His heart began to thud in his chest.

"Do you dare refuse me now?" Loki's breath came out in nervous pants, but his mind seemed to have ceased any coherent thought in the whirlwind of unexpected panic.

_He knows. He knows everything. _

He couldn't define what had happened to him. It was as if his mind had been stripped of everything that had once been sacred to him, and him alone. What had been solely his, now no longer was. And the voice, deep and buried in the back of his mind, was now telling him to accept. To give in. But while the voice was a part of him, it was also not his _own. _Even knowing that giving in would give him rest was not enough.

Thanos grabbed him by the neck. "I know you can answer me," he snapped. "_Answer. Me._"

_You are a monster._

"A monster knows his own," Thanos smiled. He grabbed Loki's head between his hands and squeezed. Loki writhed, the heat emanating from his hands almost unbearably hot. "Do you want to be free, Loki? Free of pain? Free of...freedom?"

_I want release. _

"I can give it to you," Thanos whispered. "Join me. Bring me the Tesseract, and Midgard is yours. Yours to rule. A kingdom...for a king."

Loki stared at him. He knew what the Tesseract was - every youth of Asgard was taught of its origins from a very young age. Knowing this, it was tempting. But for all of his life - all of his deceptive lie of a life - he had done favors for everyone else. Taken the blame for Thor. Ruled in his absence. Tried to please. He did not _want _to be controlled by anyone else. He did not _want_ to be in bondage to anyone but himself.

Without warning, Thanos stood and Loki crashed to the ground. He sputtered, gasped, and rolled onto his side. He needed to get away. He needed to get _away._

"You are a fool," Thanos said, still remarkably calm. "And you will suffer for it." With a wave of his hand, the air surrounding Loki suddenly began to crackle and pop. In the next breath, sparks flashed and a wall of flame materialized, burning bright and hot, seemingly of its own accord. He stared for a moment at the burning barricade beside him and shrieked, pulling away. Dragging himself as far as he possibly could, he shielded his face, cowering from the scorching heat it threw. Before he could recover, another blast came to life behind him, casting out the same blistering fire. It was like the fireplaces in the grandest halls of Asgard, but the warmth now burned and the light blinded. He backed away from it, shuddering, but everywhere he turned another blast of unfueled flame would rise, increasing in size and intensity until he was surrounding by walls of fire. Beads of sweat pooled and ran down his arms, his chest, his face. They scalded like acid, leaving trails of smoldering flesh in their wake. _What is happening to me?_

"The filth of Jotenheim cannot handle flames like the Asgardians," Thanos boomed from where he stood, feet away. Loki barely heard him. He was staring, wide-eyed, at his forearm, watching his skin sizzle from the blasts of heat around him. He was smoldering, from the inside of his frozen blood to the brittle flesh of his body. Never before had they attempted to destroy the frost giants with fire. Perhaps they had been wrong to not do so. He let out a moan as his flesh rippled and teared from the inferno around him.

"It will not kill you," he heard Thanos say, but this felt like death. His soul was being sucked from him, from his disgusting Jotun blood, and this was his fate - to suffer, to die, only to be brought from the brink and undergo the torture he was meant for. Forever.

_Forever. _

A sick, drowning sound was pulled from his chest, from his damaged body, and now, his damaged mind. It felt as if a million tiny needles were pulsing behind his eyes and he could no longer see. The fire was affecting him in ways he could not put to words, and it was then he understood it was because his transformation to a true Jotun was for just that purpose. They could not break his other form and so he had been transformed to his true self, his weak, vulnerable side. It felt as if he was outside of himself and he could hear his ragged gasps for breath, the way his nails dragged across the stone floor in desperate efforts to escape the inescapable.

He could not

stop

screaming.

All around him, laughter echoed in taunting repetitiveness.

**_How long will you insist on suffering? _**

Inexplicably, Loki raised his head. The glare of the fire kept him from seeing anything, anything at all, but somehow he sought out a pair of glittering blue eyes as if they were the only thing he was meant to see. Hatred coursed through his veins, filling every part of him with a strength he had not known he possessed. He had never been loved. He had never known peace. Suffering was what he knew.

He wanted revenge.

Despite the protests of his body, he pushed himself to his knees and forced himself to stand. It took all the effort he had, but he stood, leaning against the wall, eyes still locked on that of the Eternal's. He just stared...only stared for a moment until he opened his mouth.

"_I WANT TO LIVE!_"

His scream echoed and echoed and echoed and he put a trembling pair of fingers over his mouth, fully aware of what he had just accepted and why he was now able to speak. A flash of white in his suddenly-clearing vision made him pull back his hand and he eyed them with awe as the blue stains disappeared from his skin. A rush of wind and light threw him to his knees and suddenly he could feel again, feel everything falling back into place as it should be, _he was healing he was healing he was healing. _

Another rush of wind and light and Thanos was before him, wielding a weapon of sorts. It was long, staff-like, reminiscent of Gungnir. A deadly-looking blade sat at the end of it, faintly glowing with another blue light. Before he could even raise a hand, Thanos pushed the tip of it forward onto his chest. _Heal me only to kill me? _he wondered briefly, but then he was filled with light, oh yes, glorious light that told him all the secrets of the universe and he knew, he just _knew_ all there was to know and everything fell into place and made sense and he was free, free of it all...

"You will know peace," a voice whispered and he could feel it now, taking over his senses with an aim of glorious purpose. When the scepter was finally removed - he knew not how long it had been - he remained on his knees, mouth slightly agape, staring at the sky. Thanos watched with grim satisfaction at the way his eyes shifted from blue to green to blue again. Loki could not see himself, but he had been restored to his former glory, clothing and all. Thanos leaned in close and pushed the new black locks of hair back from his face. "Loki, of Asgard," he said with a wicked grin. "It is time for your first mission."

* * *

A middle-aged man walked down the dark corridors, eyeing his surroundings with mixed suspicion and curiosity. The air was musty, as if no one had been down here for years, yet the place was crawling with modern contraptions he had only dreamed about. It was, in a word, incredible.

"Dr. Selvig." He jumped slightly at his name and turned. Down the hallway to his left stood a tall, prominent black man with an eye patch, clad in a black trench coat. Noting his appearance, he assumed it could be no other than Nick Fury, directer of S.H.I.E.L.D, and the mysterious initiator of this meeting.

"So you're the man behind all this?" he breathed, making his way towards him. The man said nothing, so the doctor continued. "It's quite a labyrinth. I was thinking...they're taking me down here to kill me," he laughed, trying to make light of the situation. Nick Fury only stared at him. His stomach did a small flip.

Nick made his way over, hands in his pockets.

"I've been hearing about the New Mexico situation," he said, ignoring his last comment. "Your work has impressed a lot of people who are much smarter than I am."

"I have a lot to work with," Selvig shrugged. "The Foster theory, a gateway to another dimension...it's unprecedented!" Nick blinked. Dr. Selvig felt vaguely stupid. "Isn't it?" Nick turned and walked towards a case that he somehow hadn't noticed before.

"Legend tells us one thing, history, another. But every now and then we find something that belongs to both." He eyed the doctor briefly before unleashing the locks on the side of the case, opening it. Selvig, fully enthralled, leaned in for a closer look. A glowing blue cube sat inside, sparking with, what he assumed, electricity. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before - wholly unimpressive, but it drew his curiosity just the same.

"What is it?" he said wisely.

"Power, Doctor," Fury said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "If we can figure out how to tap it...maybe unlimited power."

A new presence went unnoticed by the two men. Shrouded in invisibility to the mere mortals, a fallen god eyed the glowing cube with a mixture of longing, curiosity, and hate. A vicious smile graced his lips. _This one is weak,_ a small voice said and he turned towards the mortal.

"_Well I guess that's worth a look,_" he whispered into the man's mind and he blinked, assuming the thought was his own. Selvig looked up at Fury.

"Well I guess that's worth a look," he grinned.

In the darkness, someone laughed.

* * *

**I'm assuming there are others out there who watched that post-credits scene in Thor. I can't really tell what Selvig says when he mentions the "Foster theory," but to me it DOES sound like he's saying Foster, so...my apologies if anyone thought that was dumb. I had been watching this scene again and was struck by how I didn't notice how much Loki's appearance had changed since his last scene on the Bifrost. Anyone else notice that? He had gotten paler, his teeth look sharper, and his eyes are creepy as hell...overall, just far more evil-looking. Review? :D**


	6. Glorious Purpose

**A/N: Well, that was a longer break than I had originally planned for. I was hoping that The Dark World would provide some more input for this story, but no such luck. And as a sidenote, the movie is AWESOME. **

**Anyone out there reading this? Meh, what the heck. I'll update anyway. **

* * *

The air was cool upon his cheek as he stood overlooking the expanses of the universe. He could hardly remember why he had despised this place. Arms clasped behind his back, he allowed the battle of his mind to rage, the voice with his conscience, his consciousness with the unknown. It did not bother him now. He wasn't sure if it ever really had.

Travelling the universe had never been an easy task, and his first trip to Midgard had left him slightly breathless, if not almost completely disoriented. He could feel, rather than tell, that the trip drew upon his own magic to transport him from one dimension to another. It was nothing like the Bifrost. Yet he had no fear. The Tesseract - ah yes, that glorious sustenance - supplied all his needs, made his pains seem...unimportant. He inhaled sharply, tasting the snow and the cold on his tongue. He could feel the power flowing back into him, into his body, soul, and mind. Its power was like no other. Despite being light-years away on the meager planet of Midgard, the source could still be felt and utilized - like beams of sunlight.

Once the Tesseract was back within Thanos' reach, the universe would be forever changed.

"You linger," Loki said softly, not having moved from where he stood. A dark figure walked silently behind him, blue eyes glowing in the dark.

"You have done well," the figure responded, coming to stand directly behind him. "But you have not yet proven yourself."

"You have given me nothing but knowledge," Loki replied, voice still silky. "You whispered promises, but my hands are empty. What am I to use?"

"Patience," Thanos replied, murmuring gently into his ear. "We have come to show you something." As if on cue, Loki turned, his eyes glittering an icy blue. He had not sensed the presence of the _other_, and it vaguely bothered him. It stood beside the Eternal, hands clasped in front, and he assumed it was staring at him. A nasty display of teeth pulled at its face in an attempt to smile. Loki's heart lurched at the sight. He had not missed this thing.

"You are burdened with glorious purpose, Asgardian," it hissed, teeth clacking together oddly. In the blink of an eye, it appeared beside him, gripping his shoulders firmly. The cold from its fingers seeped through his clothing and he flinched at the touch. "Look before you." He finally looked ahead, his breath pushing steam through the air.

Before him stood a vast legion of armor-clad beings - tall, strong, at attention. He noted then, as if recalling a distant dream, the creature he had killed that first day. It had been one of them. "Behold the Chitauri," Thanos hummed, "your army." A strange, fluttering feeling grew steadily in Loki's chest and it took a moment for him to realize that it was pleasure.

"My army," he said quietly, and no one made a sound. "My army," he said a bit louder, and then he exploded into roaring laughter, raising his arms to the heavens, face twisted into a sinful smile. His joy was misunderstood by all who were present - the mindless soldiers and the vicious leader alike. They did not notice his eyes were no longer blue.

A plan was formulating.

* * *

Magic does not remain static. There are but a few masters in all of the universe, and it was doubtful that even they could control all the possible outcomes of what spells determined. As time passed, and plans were made, the seeds of the magic that had been planted failed to take root. Loki's own powers had been severely underestimated, and that was to be the first downfall of Thanos' crafty plans.

Loki had not known it at first - he had assumed that the control cast over his mind was permanent, that if he let it go he would fall back into torment. Slowly but surely, however, he had come to realize that the magic restraints that had been placed upon him initially were lifted when he was healed after his exposure to the flames. Thanos had placed him under the power of the Tesseract, filling his mind with all the knowledge that had ever been known and ever would be, ignorantly assuming that its limited powers would be as effective on a Jotun as the Chitauri.

Had Loki ever only been Jotun, this might have been the case.

The magic of the Asgardians was the most powerful in all of the nine realms. Loki's transformation to an Aesir had affected him in ways no soul would ever understand. The assumption that he could be controlled was based on the fact that he had been raised as a warrior - strength in the body, not in the mind. It had not been known that Loki had been gifted from the beginning, that he had magic capabilities that rivaled those of the Allfather. The familiarity of his own mind came creeping back in bursts of clarity, in which he could remember _everything._ Then the moment would pass and would become like a beast - still possessing a mind of his own, but having no choice but to obey his master. The bursts, however, were starting to come closer and closer together, and for longer bouts of time.

It was in these times that he planned his revenge with a sound mind.

* * *

He knew of the arrangements before they were ever really made known to him.

He stared in genuine awe at the weapon that rested in Thanos' hands like it belonged there. Swirls of blue light rested comfortably in the center of the deadly blade, composed of both physical and magical power. It possessed the answers, the might, the strength of all the virtue he longed for. He knew what it had done to him. And he knew how he could utilize it for his own benefit.

"The scepter," Thanos smiled. "Is like...a part of me. I share with you the secrets of the universe, and the weapon in which you might overcome them." He held it out with ceremony, but pulled it back swiftly when Loki reached for it with greedy fingers. "But do not think yourself above me," he continued, eyes burning into Loki's own with intensity. "Even the slave cannot serve the master without the proper sustenance. You cannot elude me, _Odinson._" Loki visibly stiffened, but did not break eye contact. "Swear allegiance to me, and only me," Thanos whispered, another smile pulling at his lips, "and it...is yours. Midgard...is yours. With your army, you will take your rightful place as king."

"You place me in power over the cowering wretches of Midgard?" Loki snorted and smiled. "The battle will be short -"

"You will have no battle without me," Thanos shot back, pulling the scepter back once more with him. A strange yearning burst in Loki's heart and he longed to touch the precious blade. Thanos seemed to sense it and he suddenly extended the scepter towards him. "Kneel," he whispered, and despite his initial hatred of the concept, it rapidly burned into a fearful desire. Loki gaped at the glow and before he knew what he was doing, he dropped to his knees, a fist over his heart.

"The weak will always kneel," Thanos grinned, staring at his prone form like he was a pest he wished to squish. "Arise, Loki." He stood without ceremony and tears filled his eyes. He was under its power - that much was certain. Thanos reached out and roughly grabbed his hand, pressing the handle firmly into his skin. Loki gasped at the waves of raw _power_ that surged from its depths, growing with intensity at every passing second. He cast one last look into the face of the Eternal before him and seemed to shrink in his presence. The feeling lasted but a moment before the full effect overcame him and he smiled, _oh yes he smiled. _"Heed my words." The words flowed from his mouth like water, weighted with warning. "You have no power but that which I bestow upon you."

"And I will use this power," Loki found himself saying, "to bring you all you desire. The Tesseract will be yours, and the mere mortals will bend beneath my whims."

"You speak with a victory not yet your own."

"I swear it." His eyes locked once more on Thanos. "Do not underestimate."

"And as to you," Thanos said, taking a step backward. "Do not fail."

In a flash of brilliance, he was gone.

Loki's eyes traveled up and down the scepter numerous times, a tiny grin pulling at his lips._ "I will be my own,_" he whispered into the dark.

And for but a moment, his eyes blazed green once more.

* * *

**I have got about a billion story ideas floating through my brain, so it's time to wrap this baby up. There will only be one more chapter, and it's really more of an epilogue than anything else. I hope someone out there enjoyed this. Long live Loki! **


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